Okay, seriously? This new Sherri Griffin basically downed an entire bottle of tequila while we all watched. Maybe it wasn’t an entire bottle. But it was definitely more than one shot. Two or three or maybe four. And we were like, what the hell? First of all, save some for the rest of us! And second, was she going to fall down drunk right in front of us, or, and we seriously hoped not, throw up in the pool? (That happened at Brooke’s party in 2013, but we’re not naming names. We will say that the involved party did pay for the pool company to come out the next day and hand-clean the filter, which was no small expense.)
With each shot of tequila Sherri became more composed, more steady. Her back, already very straight (and visible) in that (we had to admit, fantastic) gold dress, got even straighter. Her eyes, which were heavily made up, opened wider. She seemed to grow taller before us, like The Nutcracker Christmas tree. And it became a truth universally acknowledged: Sherri Griffin could hold her liquor.
The bartender, sensing new tension, made his first round of Aperol tequila cocktails, and we each took one. They went down easy. Also, they were sort of small, so a few of us went back for our second drink right away. Don’t look at us that way. We knew the line would get long once the corn hole game ended, and we were just trying to be cognizant of the other partygoers. Okay?
Nicole was Sherri’s first victim. Sherri turned to her and in no uncertain terms (there’s some dispute about exactly what she said, which is why we are merely summarizing for you now) told her what a shitty thing it was to leave Katie and Morgan out of Riley’s Boda Borg birthday party.
Nicole has that fair skin that hides neither shame nor alcohol, and almost immediately she reddened. She looked to some of us for backup, but nobody came to her defense. The next day some of us regretted that. But at the time, we were all too shocked. Seriously, Sherri Griffin had never been anything but unassuming and pleasant. Meek, you would have called her. Milquetoast, if you were being fancy, but we weren’t typically that fancy.
After she had dispensed with Nicole, Sherri turned her attention to Dawn, and let loose on her for her telling everyone she’d been crawling around on the Laundromat floor at the beginning of the summer. How Sherri heard about that we do not know. That story had been told to just a few of us, in private.
After the evisceration of Dawn, Sherri set her teeth into Tammy. Not literally. But it felt like it. Her beef with Tammy had to do with an Instagram photo Tammy’s daughter, Casey, had posted at a sleepover, when she’d tagged Katie even though she wasn’t there—she hadn’t been invited.
“Terrible,” we all agreed later, hoping our daughters hadn’t been guilty of the same shortcoming. “Real mean-girl stuff.” We made mental notes to go home later and check Instagram accounts. And if we’re being completely honest, Tammy doesn’t always have the best judgment with that sort of thing herself. Sometimes, like mother like daughter.
When that was done, some of us slunk into the shadows, where the lights didn’t reach, lest we were next. As it turned out, no single person was next. Sherri Griffin was addressing the whole group. She tossed her blond hair (definitely Shanti, we decided, probably that new stylist who had been brought in to do only color) and said, “Here’s what we’re going to do, ladies.”
Even the bartender was listening.
“We’re going to have a fresh start come fall. We’re all going to be a little more accepting of newcomers.” We nodded. “And I swear, if Katie comes home from school on the first day and tells me she didn’t have anywhere to sit at lunch, or nobody shared a locker with her, or she didn’t have a partner for the first group project, you’re going to have to answer to me. And also?” She lowered her voice and we all leaned in. It was weird, how seductive she suddenly seemed. “I’d love to get in on that next trip to Nantucket. Whenever you guys are going. If one more isn’t too much trouble.” And she smiled, and she sauntered off.
Obviously Sherri Griffin did not bring a gun to Brooke’s end-of-summer party. (Did she? No, of course not. Don’t be stupid.) But there was something about the way she held herself that made us all feel like she had some sort of weapon—some power over us. It’s hard to explain. It seems sort of embarrassing to talk about it now, especially considering what happened later. But at the time, well. We all took Sherri Griffin very seriously.
What did we do after that, you ask? Well, Gina saw Rebecca and her Mystery Man enter the party. She made a little noise of surprise and started off toward them.
But for a more long-term plan? What do you think we did? We told our daughters to make sure that Katie Griffin had the best first day of school in the history of first days of school. We had our girls fighting over who was going to sit next to her in the cafeteria. We had our daughters buying extra locker decorations so that whoever ended up with Katie Griffin as a locker partner would have the prettiest locker in the whole sixth grade. And when we planned the next trip to Nantucket, which, by the way, didn’t take place for a while because of everything else that happened, you can bet your right index finger that Sherri Griffin was added to that text.